Tag Archives: beer

Plastic Paddy’s Wake (and Bake)

(to the tune of “Finnegan’s Wake”)

Plastic Paddy lived on Linden Street,
A mutt with a tinge of Irish blood.
His North Shore accent wicked sweet
and in his life, smoked too much bud.
So he had a sort of a tipplin’ way
With a love for jäger bombs he was born.
And to help him get to class each day:
Sambuca in his Dunkies ev’ry morn.

CHORUS:
Chug, Chug, Chug, bro, let’s do shots
’til you hit the floor and your stomach aches.
Dudebro, it’s a rager here
At Plastic Paddy’s wake and bake!

One night he shotgunned too much beer.
His head felt heavy, which made him shake.
He fell from the second floor balcony
And they gathered around to help him wake.
They moved him to the futon
where they slapped him twice upside the head.
Someone panicked, “Call the cops!”
when they felt for sure that he was dead.

(Repeat Chorus)

His friends assembled in the living room
And Dave O’Reilly called for shots.
Whiskey, cream, and Guinness chugged,
then finished with a rip of pot.
Maggie McDonald flipped her shit:
“I’m so fucked up, but seriously
we should probably call the cops.”
“Yo, that bitch is tweakin’!” yelled Al Giovanni.

(Repeat Chorus)

Then Suzy Kaplan spoke up with haste:
“You’re killing the buzz, so there’s the door.”
Maggie then gave her a slap in the face
And left her sprawling on the floor.
Then the war did soon engage;
‘Twas woman to woman and man to man.
The kegger war broke out in rage
and a violent riot soon began.

(Repeat Chorus)

Then Teddy Davis ducked his head
when someone threw a can of Natty.
It burst beside the futon bed
and the beer exploded all over Paddy.
Paddy revives, see how he rises!
Paddy risin’ from the futon!
Says, “Whoa. Shit. I’m good now, bro.
Let’s do car bombs! Party on!”

(Repeat Chorus)

That Was The Homophobic Girl I Poured A Beer On And Then Got Her Kicked Out Of The Bar That Was

I recently attended a bachelor party in a strange dystopian place that was not unlike a Terry Gilliam movie, and while I’m not legally allowed to speak of many details, there is one anecdote that I feel obligated to share.

At this point in the evening, we were, of course, terribly inebriated and acting generally inappropriate in public, as these things tend to go. For what it’s worth, this was fairly common in our chosen destination, and with the exception of one horrified mother, most people seemed to be entertained by our behavior. We met a group of girls, one of whom was celebrating her birthday. They appeared to share our debaucherous attitude, and agreed to pose for a photograph with the Man Of Honor.

Naturally, I decided to photobomb their picture with the Bachelor, because alcohol. Another friend in our group joined me in the fun, and we posed behind the group of girls with me kissing him on the cheek and both of us giving big goofy thumbs-up because that would obviously be hilarious (alcohol). One of the girls saw this, and with her face scrunched up in absolute disgust, she yelled: “Ew, you two are gay?!”

“Don’t worry, we can crop the faggots out of the photo,” replied the birthday girl. (The “faggot” and “gay” comments may have been reversed, depending on which witness you ask from our group)

Needless to say, I did not respond well to this girl’s comment. These girls definitely knew that we were with the Bachelor Party, and that there were much, much, much more offensive things happening nearby than two dudes messing with their friend’s photo.

Unfortunately, I was too shocked in the moment to say or do anything witty (a rare thing for me, I know). But as the evening wore on, I filled with rage every time I saw them (and then naturally forgot about it whenever they were out of sight and continued to have fun).

Some time later, we were deciding to leave, and after a brief conference with some of the guys I was with, we all agreed that it would be a fantastic idea for me to pour a beer on her head. We staged an elaborate domino train alibi, whereby one of the guys would bump into me on his way out, and I would trip and bump into another one of our guys, and then fall back and pour beer on the girl.

Long story short, I am the most amazing actor ever after I’ve been drinking for 15 hours straight because I was not very subtle in my beer pouring. After the planned bumps, I lumbered towards her with one conspicuously lethargic drunken elephant step and dumped the beer, but not before she had a chance to grab a glass with about an inch of water in it and throw it at me in response.

Unfortunately, she missed, instead hitting one of my other friends, at which point security promptly arrived and told the girl and her friends that they had to leave. “That faggot dumped a beer on me!” she screamed at the security guard, very clearly soaked from the beer that I had in fact poured on her. “I got pushed,” I said with a shrug, although it was probably more of a slur. But somehow it convinced him of my innocence, and the security guard brought the police over and they escorted the girls from the premises and in conclusion it was the best night ever and totally made up for the fact that I lost waaaaaaaaaaay more money that weekend than I wanted to.

Why I Hate Journey (the band)

I get asked this question all the time, so I think it’s important for me to finally come clean and set the record straight: why do I hate the band Journey so much?

‘Cause they fuckin’ suck, dude.

Okay no but seriously, there’s actually a number of legitimate reasons for this. And it’s not their entire catalog (that lick from “Anyway You Want It” is pretty good, even if the song goes on too long), so I don’t hate the band themselves per se. It’s mostly “Don’t Stop Believin’.” And it’s not just because I’m trying to be contrary or anything — there are plenty of other equally popular pop songs that I do enjoy with no shame at all. In my mind, “Don’t Stop Believin'” is the most hackneyed, cliched, and derivative anthemic pop/rock song of all time, like someone mashed the parts of every other rock anthem into a calculator, stripped out the emotions, found the mathematical mean, and then put it on the radio. It doesn’t help that people ascribe way too much personal meaning (in my humble opinion) to the song when they’re shitfaced at last call and screaming out nonsense about “Streetlight People,” whatever the hell that means. The lyrics are generic meaningless drivel disguised (very poorly, I might add) as poetry, when in fact, they say nothing at all. Nothing but, “Don’t Stop Believin'” which sure, okay, fine, that’s a good message. I guess. But does it actually mean anything?

My good friend Layne was also a huge Journey fan, and this served as a major point of contention throughout the entire tenure of our friendship. Still, as a friend, I was always willing to overlook her shortcomings. We all have flaws, we all make mistakes. Hers was Journey (to say nothing of her N*SYNC obsession, which I was totally okay with).

Layne passed away a few days after her birthday in April, 2011. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon on a Friday and I had just finished speaking at an event at Emerson College, our alma mater, so I slipped into Sweetwater Tavern for a beer with a few other alumni friends. I received a phone call from our friend Eric, who was always particularly close to Layne. I stepped outside so I could hear him better, and that’s when he delivered the news.

I went back into the bar and sat at the table with my other friends, the color drained from my face. They asked what was wrong and I told them, insisting that we keep drinking and not really talk about it right now, because I was still processing it. I slammed back the rest of my beer, and I realized that “Don’t Stop Believin'” was playing over the speakers in the bar. For a brief moment, I swear I could have seen Layne’s ghostly visage sticking her tongue out at me and waving her fingers, teasing and taunting as if to say “Gotcha, motherfucker! I win!” (which, to be fair, is something she would totally do, especially in a posthumous state).

So that’s why I don’t like Journey. Plus, you know, they suck.

Scotty, or, That Time I Wasn’t 21

My favorite memory of Scotty was in 2005, the summer after my freshman year of college. I was 19 years old then, and there was a band I wanted to see that was playing at Rudy’s that night (I think it was the Plus Ones, but I’m not entirely sure). I was walking around downtown New Haven with a friend, and we decided to see if we could get into the bar to watch the show, even though neither one of us was of legal drinking age. We over-rationalized a complicated scheme, as you tend to do when you’re not yet 21 and trying to get into a bar: “I heard Rudy’s doesn’t really card anyway” “Plus it’s a week day, they definitely won’t be carding” “I bet they card at the bar, so let’s not buy any drinks and just watch the band instead” etc.

As we approach the patio in front of the bar, who else but Scotty Lucca bursts through the door, drunk as drunk can be and fumbling with a cigarette and lighter in his hand. Of course he sees me immediately. “Thom Dunn! Holy shit!” he shouts as he runs over to give me one of those great big Scotty bearhugs. I introduce him to my friend, whom he embraces with just as much enthusiasm. In turn, he introduces us to the doorman at the bar — because it’s New Haven, and Scotty may as well be the mayor of this town with all the people that he knows. The doorman lets us follow us follow Scotty back onto the patio, no questions asked.

We stand there chatting for a bit, catching up while Scotty has a smoke. He finishes the cigarette, stomps it out, then turns to me and says (at a delightfully drunken volume), “So what are you up to tonight, man? You’re not 21!”
…at which point my friend and I look at one another and try mumble an excuse about, oh, well, we’re just hangin’ out, just kinda walking around…
And almost immediately, Scotty realizes what he’d done. “Oh. Fuck. I just totally blew your cover didn’t I?” My other friend and I (I don’t even remember who I was with) look back to the bouncer, with that awkward-nervous smile and wave that never covers anything up, and abruptly leave the bar.

Thanks for that, man.

A year and a half later, it’s my first night home in New Haven since turning 21, and I end up hanging out at Rudy’s with some friends. I start to tell them this very same story, when sure enough, Scotty shows up. He brings me a beer and apologizes profusely for that night, but we just laugh it off and catch up on each others’ lives. I think pretty much every time I saw him after that, he’d apologize for that night as well. We never saw each other all the often, but it become our kind of running joke whenever we did.

Rest In Peace, Scott Lucca
11/10/78 – 10/18/12

An Official Message From the Boston Police Department: If You Got Arrested at this year’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade – You Probably Did Something to Deserve It

“Congratulations. You’re our first customers today who haven’t come straight to the bar to order Irish car bombs.”

“But…it’s only 12:02.”

“…”

“And you guys don’t open til noon.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve only been open for 2 minutes.”

“…”

“And there’s no one else here.”

Yeah.

“…”

“…”

“…Oh.

“Yeah.”

Haiku Beer Review #3: Winter Beer Summit 2012

6:10pm

Trinity Brewing Company Flo IPA
There’s not too much “I”
But a whole lot of “PA.”
A crisp, simple brew.

6:13pm 

Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale (8.4% ABV)
Pale, light body, with
all the taste of a bourbon…
but without the burn?

Crispin Cho-Tokkyu Cider (6.5% ABV)
Made with sake yeast
and rice syrup; so Bud Lite
mixed with apple juice.

Lagunitas Our Own Bavarian-Styled Dopple Weizen (9% ABV)
Rich, full-bodied wheat
beer. Slight clove/banana notes;
not cloying like most.

6:31

Paper City Brewing Blonde Hop Monster (8.5% ABV)
Light, crisp malt flavor
with a strong presence of dry,
bitter hops. Not bad!

Pretty Things Beer and Ale Project Our Finest Regards Barleywine (13.5% ABV)
Is it *their* finest
regards, or *mine*, now that I’m
drinking it? Syntax!

6:45pm

Cody Brewing Company Honey Ginger Ale
It’s like…ginger ale
(the soft drink), but a beer (but
not like Ginger Beer) .

Cody Brewing Company SOS Belgian IPA (5.7% ABV)
I didn’t really
pay attention to this one;
but I enjoyed it!

6:58pm

Ommegang Adoration Winter Ale (10% ABV)
Too tart, too funky,
too malty, way too spicy;
it’s all just too much.

Brooklyn Brewery Black Chocolate Stout (10% ABV)
Chocolate taste up front
that swiftly fades to tart, malty
notes. I’ve had better.

Staropramen Lager
My German friend says
it doesn’t taste this sweet back
in the Vaterland.

Bay State Beer Company Time Traveller Maibock (7.5% ABV)
A big, golden malt
taste, but still temporally
linear; ah well.

7:13pm

Sam Adams Whitewater IPA (5.8% ABV)
Crisp, fresh citrus hops
up front, with a lingering
bitterness. Awesome!

7:25pm

Paper City Brewing Imperial Coffee Stout
Tastes artificial,
but without that sweetness; too
much roasty coffee.

7:34pm

Kennebec River Brewery IPA (5.9% ABV)
Much more bitter than
the body or aroma
let on; grapefruit-y.

B. Nektar Zombie Killer Cherry Ciser (5.5% ABV)
Dude! It’s called fucking
ZOMBIE KILLER! That’s awesome!
Light, sweet, and deadly!

8:01pm

Old Burnside Brewery Ten Penny Ale Reserve (9.6% ABV)
Big-bodied Scotch Ale;
caramel/toffee flavors
with a smooth finish.

Southern Tier Old Man Winter Ale (7.7% ABV)
Both full-bodied and
full-flavored. A perfect brew
to warm your winter.

Heavy Seas Loose Cannon Hop3 Ale (7.5% ABV)
Fantastic blend of
rich, aromatic hops and
tasty malt. Pirates!

Heavy Seas Peg Leg Imperial Stout (8% ABV)
A strong, savory
stout that goes down smooth. Also,
Pirates Oh Em Gee!

8:35pm

Jack’s Abbey Hoponius Union India Pale Lager (6.7% ABV)
Crisp, easy lager
balanced by grapefruit hops notes;
now I have to pee.

8:54pm

Woodchuck Crisp Hard Cider
Well. Okay then. That is
most certainly crisp. Pretty
much just apple juice!

Baxter Brewing Stowaway IPA (6.9% ABV)
Almost all bitter
hops; very assertive, but
still enjoyable.

Beer Review Haiku Part Two

These brews were all originally tasted at the Mass Brewer’s Fest at the Seaport World Trade Center in Boston on September 2, 2011

Blue Hills Brewery Antimatter (4.8% ABV)
Like an explosion
of atomic biscuits in
a flower bouquet.

Blue Hills Brewery Watermelon Wheat
This just tastes like NERDS.
You know, the candy? There is
nothing else to say.

Blue Hills Brewery OktoBrau
Malty, but without
being sweet. Tastes rather
green and unaged.

Samuel Adams Brewery Harvest Pumpkin Ale (5.7% ABV)
A better pumpkin
offering, but still spicy
with strong clove flavors.

Cape Cod Brewery IPA (6.0% ABV)
With dominating
pine and citrus tones, this tastes
almost tingly.

Jack’s Abbey Brewing Hoponious Union IPL (6.7% ABV)
An India Pale
LAGER? Sounds like crazy talk!
Oh wow that’s hoppy…

Wachusett Brewery Imperial Pumpkin Ale (8.0% ABV)
Hot alcohol taste
right up front. It’s basically
BOOZE BOOZE spices BOOZE.

Cisco Brewery Pumple Drumpkin (6.0% ABV)
You know how pumpkin
beers don’t actually taste like
pumpkin? This one does.

Pretty Things Jack D’or (6.5% ABV)
Distinct Belgian taste
of cloves and spice, with a dry
hoppy bitterness.

Ipswich Brewery Castle Hill Summer Barleywine
Thick, chewy body
with sharp molasses tang — and
yet, still summer-y.

The Alchemist Magic Carpet Rye
This beer tastes
almost exactly like a
pancake, but a beer.

Haverhill Brewery India Schwarzbier
Not so much hoppy,
more with the roasty flavors;
a resounding “meh.”

Northampton Conundrum Beer
Like great iced coffee —
no cream, no sugar, with a
splash of caramel.

Watch City Brewery BeeJezus Belgian Botanical Ale (8.0% ABV)
A beer with no hops?!
Very herbal; not bad, but
I want beer, not tea.

Haverhill California Poms American Wheat Ale with Pomegranate
Oh wait, I’m sorry,
this was supposed to have a
flavor? I missed that.

Wormtown Pumpkin Ale (4.3% ABV)
Lightly spiced, with some
actual pumpkin flavor;
simple, but solid.

Harpoon Brewery Uncle Fester Wild Dark Ale
Weird funky wild yeast
taste, but still sweet, smoky, and
spicy all at once.